The Burden of Secrets
by kelmeister
Summary: Killian and Emma both have something to reveal. Futurefic. Complete


Killian doesn't know when it began. At some point, as he and Emma slowly found themselves spending more and more nights together, his right hand would of its own accord reach across the bed and seek her out, unconsciously reassuring himself that she was alright and safe beside him. lf he were truly honest with himself, he would admit he was reassuring himself merely that she was alive.

So when his wandering hand seeks her out in the wee hours of the morning to find her side of the bed empty and cooling, he is immediately awake and alert.

"Swan," he calls out, sitting up. He is surprised to find the closet light on and Emma, bathed in its soft glow, standing in front of her floor mirror. "Emma?"

Emma's response is barely more than a whisper. "It's hard," she says.

Killian is up in a flash, two brief strides bringing him up behind her. She's staring at herself in the mirror, wearing only a tank top and panties. Gooseflesh pimples her skin. She's chewing on her lower lip. Both of her hands rest on her belly.

"Love, what's hard," he asks. Is she sick? Did she have a nightmare? He reaches out, touches her cold arm with his hand and gives her what he hopes is a reassuring squeeze.

She meets his gaze in the mirror. Her mouth is turned down in a frown, her brow knitted together. "I don't know what happened," she shrugs. "I was asleep and I rolled over and-" She gives him a small smile. "I was uncomfortable. I don't know how I didn't notice it before now."

Killian carefully moves his hand lower, to the soft skin under her belly button. When she doesn't object, he gently slips his fingers under the band of her panties. Before he can stop himself he gasps, sharing her look of confusion.

Truth be told, if pressed for a response Killian would admit that this is his favorite part of Emma's body. It's her greatest secret. Clothed, she is a warrior: lean, hardened muscles forged in the heat of battle, a body befitting a savior. But when she is nude in his bed, head thrown back and moaning his name, her body is softness. The gentle swell of her breasts is, of course, quite arousing. But it is the slight curve of the flesh of her belly, supple and pliable under his hand, under his body, that he loves most of all. The Emma she reveals to no one else but him.

So he is taken aback to discover that now under his fingers the flesh is rock solid and unyielding. He can barely contain his joy.

Without thought, he beams at Emma's reflection. "The babe is growing," he nearly giggles. Captain Hook, giggling! But Emma is chewing on her lip, not sharing his enthusiasm. "Love?"

Again, she shrugs. "I-" She sighs.

He places a gentle kiss on her shoulder. "Emma," he encourages, "What's wrong?"

They stand together in silence, the only sounds the ticking of a clock and their quiet breathing. Killian watches myriad expressions flit across Emma's face: worry, sadness, defeat-things he's not seen in his Emma in so long. But he waits, holding her, rubbing small circles across her belly, across their baby.

"When I was pregnant with Henry," she finally exhales, "I had nothing. I was nothing. I was young, and in jail, and I had no prospects when I got out. I had no idea where Neal was, if I was ever going to see him again. And there I was with a baby on the way." The look she gives his reflection is pained. "I knew I couldn't keep him, so I tried to forget he was even there."

"Oh, Emma, darling," he whispers, unconsciously squeezing her closer to him. She struggles a little in his grasp, until he frees her, missing the feel of her in his arms as he watches her move to the bed.

She picks at a blanket. "I pretended I wasn't pregnant. I didn't want to have anything to do with him." She meets his gaze from behind a curtain of hair. "It would be easier to let him go."

"And now?" Killian takes a step toward her, not wanting to frighten her. He feels the momentousness of this admission in the heavy air of the room, senses that she's finally unburdening herself of a weight she's carried for more years than has been fair.

"I want this baby, Hook," she announces, "I want to be excited for our baby!" She fists a hand and strikes her thigh, physically manifesting the war within her.

As he has done since the moment he met her, Killian reads the conflict on her face. He understands. "You feel guilty," he says, taking another step.

"But I know what I felt when David and Mary Margaret got pregnant."

"You thought they were replacing you."

"And now I'm afraid Henry feels the same way." She sucks in a breath. "I don't want that. I hate myself, thinking I might make him feel that."

Another step and Killian stands in front of Emma. He runs his fingers through the hair at her temple. He worries for a second that she's too scared, failing back into old habits, pulling into herself, but she surprises him. Emma leans into his touch and closes her eyes.

"Henry is a clever boy," he tells her, "He is clever and caring and possesses wisdom beyond his years. If there is one thing in all the realms that proves there is goodness in Regina, it's Henry and the young man he's become." This elicits a small smile from Emma.

But now it's Killian's turn to frown. He remembers that with a word he could put all of Emma's fears to rest. He falls heavily onto the edge of the bed, pulls his hand roughly across his face and sighs.

"What," Emma asks, lightly fingering the hair sticking up from his head.

Killian glances up at her wearily. He takes her hand in his, tugging gently. "You must swear never to reveal what I am about to tell you. I fear the repercussions could mean my demise. I made a promise," he says, releasing her hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I swore on my honor as a pirate-" Emma snorts, and Killian throws her a raised eyebrow. "-And if that wasn't sufficient, on my honor as a member of the royal court."

"Promised what?"

Killian exhales and lets his confession out in a rush. "Henry is writing a book."

Emma shakes her head. "I don't understand. A book?"

"He asked my assistance in procuring a journal, preferably one bound in leather, and ornate." Killian looks up at Emma and holds her gaze. "He is writing a book explaining the ways of the realms, everything one would need to know to flourish. For the babe."

Emma gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. Her eyes sparkle with gathering tears. "He's what?"

"It describes our family, how to behave in court, how to address visiting dignitaries and household staff alike." Emma is silent, absorbing his words. "We wrote a chapter on piloting a ship, and navigating by the stars, and I helped him draw all the knots he knows. Your father explained proper horsemanship-"

"David knows about this?" Emma chokes.

"Aye. We-" Killian glances at Emma, and she's quietly crying, her cheeks glistening. He grabs her hip and pulls her into the vee of his legs. "Love," he whispers, stroking her thigh, "it was to be a surprise."

"It was Henry's idea?"

"Aye." Killian flashes her smile. "I don't think there is anyone in all the realms happier about this child than Henry. Including we two."

Emma covers her face with her hands, sobbing in earnest. Killian is flustered, murmuring endearments to calm her, surprised by her reaction to his news. He wraps his arms around her, planting gentle kisses on her belly, She buries her hands in his hair, tilting his face up to meet hers as she bends to kiss him. It's desperate and needy. It feels to him as though she is trying to pour every ounce of her being into the kiss. "Thank you," she breathes against his lips, "thank you, thank you."

He chuckles. "No need to thank me, love. Thank Henry when the time is right."

Emma barks out a laugh. It is a joyous sound, and Killian finally feels himself relax. "I love you," he tells her, pulling her close and rubbing his rough cheek against her skin, "Never in all of my years would I have thought there could be a love greater than True Love, but by gods I feel it for you."

And so they stay, Emma calmly running her fingers through his hair, his arms wrapped about her middle, his ear resting against the warm spot where his child sleeps, protected. Emma's sobs quiet, until all he can hear is the ticking clock, their breaths mingling, and what he believes, if pressed for a response, is the muffled cadence of a baby's heartbeat.


End file.
